My Conderoga
by The Chai Addict
Summary: [Oneshot:AU] At the celebration of the Mt. Nibel reactor Tifa meets a certain member of the Turks bearing a difficult burden. In a simple folklore game, she discovers enough about him to seek to liberate him, and herself, no matter the cost in the end.


Don't ask me where the idea came from, just spontaneity from class. So boring really. It's a bit of an AU, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. Haha, enjoy.

.—

There was mever any yet that wholly could escape love, and never shall there be any, never so long as beauty shall be, never so long as eyes can see.

-_Longus_

.—

The voices at the party rose and fell, dipping with each separate tone of conversation although all the words muddled together into one cloud of murmuring that hung thickly in the air, and drowned any individual voice. Paper lanterns decorated wooden poles and stretched across the sky on strings, and they reminded me of stars glittering against the navy blanket of twilight. My mother, an image of summer in a white and cream sundress, laughed beautifully, even though her mirth was obviously fake, as she kept a firm grip on my slender wrist, long fingers wrapped dubiously around and locked together. I coaxed out a smile, yet I didn't really understand (same as she) the political jokes my father shared with the men of Shinra.

"They are Shinra VIPs," Kaasan told me harshly days before, while painting her face like a doll. I wanted to grab her and shake her hard for one uncontrolled moment, but managed to hold myself still. My lips pressed into a thin line.

"This is a very important social event for your father so please behave. Don't do anything to embarrass us, Shinra is considering building a Mako reactor on Mount Nibel, and this social gathering will give the final decision. Don't you want to be rich?" Another sudden impulse convulsed through me, on which prompted me to slap some sense into her. Not only had the decision already been made (even I knew that), but also wealth played only a small part in this affair: it was power she craved. Yet she struck me first, adding "don't give me that look."

Perhaps that was why she clung to my arm so tightly, to prevent me from humiliating them. Rebelling, I almost wished I'd be given the opportunity, but my own pride stood between me and any such plan.

The Turks had already arrived earlier that day to search Nibelheim for any security hazards or possible threats to President Shinra's safety before he came. Now they strolled in midnight blue suits about the festivity, sampling the food and watching the citizens socialize. Some even joined in. I was mildly astonished to see women among them in equally dark skirts and jackets, and my opinion of President Shinra rose. Maybe he wasn't so bad if he depended on women as much as men. Our world was certainly progressing.

Sighing as my father cracked another political joke that sounded like walnuts between his teeth, I glanced around, taking in the night and looking for something of interest. Perhaps this party wouldn't be so bad if I were being held prisoner at my mother's side, who cackled merry laughter. Rotund jewels may have tumbled from her mouth if she were a fairytale princess, so perfected were her giggles that they chimed like bells. Shamefully, I still wanted to slap her hard and see a red weal smear across her face, but instead I smiled prettily as a young Turk with red hair turned his attention to me. He was quite attractive.

"And you're Tifa?" He could have only been my senior by a mere few years, he still had a school-boy playful look in his face. I found myself blushing.

"Yes," I offered my hand to shake his, but he dramatically put it to his lips instead, murmuring, "a pleasure" into my knuckles. Another Turk, this one bald with eyes hidden behind sunglasses, perused me analytically, and raised his eyebrows—I supposed he was rolling his eyes, but couldn't tell—at his companion's behavior. The pair together were quite amusing, but at the flashy glint in my mother's eye I jerked my hand courteously back. I was sure that in her conniving mind, she saw me as yet another tool for her to permanently secure power in out family. Wedding me to a Turk would give her a handhold on Shinra's innards, allowing my family to claw their way inside. The auburn haired Turk grinned.

"I'm Reno. This impressive man—" He jerked a thumb to the bald Turk behind him—"is Rude. But don't let his shy façade fool you." Reno leaned in close to me, staring me solemnly in the eye. "He's really got a thing for young girls." My mother's, father's, and my own face all drained of color, even though we knew he was joking, but Tousan's hands latched onto my shoulders, dragging me back, out of Kaasan's grasp, and away from the pair. Rude cuffed Reno on the back of his skull, who was roaring with laughter at his own cleverness. Embarrassed at my obvious display of innocence (and inability to handle a crude joke) I cracked a belated smile and chuckled. After all, I was nearly eighteen.

"Tifa, go and get our guests some refreshments," My father said stiffly, as though he were trying to choke up more walnuts. My mother nodded dutifully. I obeyed, but only after I'd caught Reno's gaze with my own. I was sincerely sick of their control.

The sky shadowed overhead, bringing out the illuminated lanterns even more as they swayed above the heads of the ignorant crowd, like the sword above the king's head, held aloft by a bit of string, threatening to bring calamity down. No one noticed.

At the table decked with finger foods and plastic flutes of alcohol, my merry neighbor stood, overseeing that the refreshments never ran out while the craving remained. Johnny, the son of the man owned the convenience store watched me walk with a hungered gleam in his eyes, one I recognized to be the same longing and greed reflected in my own mother's stare as she watched Reno and I exchange words. But I was reckless, why should I care about anything tonight? He held out a glass of champagne to me and I accepted it without hesitation. Mrs. Strife smiled genially at us both.

"Tifa you look so well," she commented, "I swear, one of these days you'll have trouble keeping the men away." I figured it would be too presumptuous of me to tell her I already was, and took a long drink. Johnny laughed, not like Reno, but like my mother: mechanical and calculating. Fake.

"We're playing a game of Con soon, Tifa," he said, "won't you join us?"

"Oh, I wish Cloud were here," Mrs. Strife moaned with regret, "I'm sure he would love the chance to be your Con, Tifa." To that, an awkward silence fell, nothing seemed appropriate to say. I just kept on smiling like a fool. Johnny cleared his throat. Mrs. Strife went on, "he used to be so fond of you. I just _wish _he could be here."

Cloud Strife had run off to Midgar, like most boys these days, to become a member of Soldier, and no one had heard anything from him since. Even his own mother was clueless as to if here were still alive, and that had strained the poor woman to the end of her wits. Sometimes I wanted to run off to Midgar myself, but only to find the boy and knock some sense into him. How could he do that to his mother, who thought of him in every moment she could spare? It showed on her face, like in that moment, a pained expression that hurt to see. I downed my entire glass and snatched a couple extras off the table for my parents, Reno, and Rude.

"I might join in," I smiled at John, who returned the look.

"I'm sure we would all love it if you did," He answered. "You need any help with those?" I shook my head to decline, watching the lanterns twinkle in the corners of eyes like insects, and offered a small See You Later to the pair: Johnny surveying me still and Mrs. Strife trying to hide her inner ache by turning up the corners of her mouth. I wanted to cry for her.

Rude had disappeared by the time I reappeared, yet Reno lingered behind with his shirt untucked and his hands shoved pleasantly into his pockets. I suddenly noticed that two red tendrils I'd earlier mistaken for his long crimson hair weren't tendrils at all, but instead curving tattoos that pointed along his cheekbones under his azure eyes, the one bold color contrasting passionately to ultimately define the other. He halted his conversation with my mother to grin temptingly at me as I approached. I found myself beaming a reply, intent on meeting his gaze full on. Kaasan did see him as appealing as before, but I felt genuinely drawn in by his congeniality.

"There she is!" He exclaimed, relieving me of all but one glass, and handing an extra to my mother. Her lips were strained into the thinnest of lines, threatening to disappear altogether off her face. Defiantly, I made a flirting comment towards Reno's tattoos, my voice drawn into a high, awed pitch. He flashed his teeth again.

"These aren't the only ones I have," he leaned in close to me, our shoulders touching and his voice seductively low, "You want to see my others?" Suddenly, I wasn't so innocent anymore, and I knew exactly what he was talking about, replying coyly, "you want to show me?" My mother didn't miss a beat, jerking me once again away from the crude young Turk, but I could barely stop laughing, and Reno laughed right along with me. It felt good to share a joke with someone.

"Tifa, go and do something useful!" She hissed waspishly, "and stop batting your eyes at every man here!" My mother certainly was the queen of irrationality and supreme exaggeration. I rolled my eyes, and cast Reno a long look over my shoulder. With his hands still plunged deep into his pockets, he stared stirringly at me, but not quite looking me in the eye; he was watching something else. I rocked my hips for him as I turned my head back around and heard his laughter as it followed me away.

My father gave me a hard look as I strolled by him, part exasperation, part threat, more sobering than all my mother's scolding. I shrugged, walking on by. I didn't care.

On a makeshift stage, a pretty woman symphonized with a violin tucked under her chin, the strings ringing and dancing under the bow. Anyone could see her enthusiasm glowing in her eyes, and I couldn't seem to pull myself away as I slowed my steps. Caught in the mesmerizing flash of her music.

Someone bumped sideways into me, almost pushing me forward into another couple, but I caught myself.

"Oh, excuse me." She apologized, smiling kindly, and I stared fixedly at her. To put it plainly, she was simply stunning, absolutely gorgeous with chestnut hair pulled up and brilliant aqua eyes. I noticed her professional garb as well as the sneering man affixed to her arm. He refused to even make eye contact with me, and there was something…dark about him. Glinting beyond his glasses.

"It's alright." I consoled her, and she smiled. I felt so plain beside her, perhaps how a daisy might feel next to a rose or a mule beside a horse. Then they moved on, she: laughing delightfully at something the man said (what could he ever say that would be amusing?), and he: striding like a predator alongside her. Scheming. I wondered what the woman found appealing in him He certainly revolted me.

.—

Johnny discovered me watching the musicians again, and gave me another glass of alcohol. Everything seemed so perfect then: the laughing and talking people, the harmony of music, the pale lights smearing on the faces, hands, feet…When I took a drink, my reflection stared smartly up at me from the bottom of the glass, the lanterns behind me gave an ethereal aura to the night. I let the drink burn my throat.

"They're playing Con over by the well," he said, revealing his true intentions for seeking me out. I looked at him, his lips, and wondered what it might feel like to kiss him over and over… But what was the chance I'd find him? Slim at most. But over at the small ring beside the well, I recognized Reno's red hair and smiled. Maybe I would get him as my Con. The thought made my heart jump, he certainly had the air of a good kisser. Johnny pulled me into the game, where I waited in the gathering of girls all lingering for their chance to find their Conderoga. Their Con.

The men roared with laughter as a red head I knew by the name of Mollie had the handkerchief tied over her eyes and many hands reached in to turn her again and again until she was properly disoriented. Her lips pulled up in excitement, and I caught Reno's eyes, standing behind her. He puckered as I chanted with the crowd:

_Shall you wait until he's gone?_

_Will you cry when all is done?_

_Come on, Mollie, keep moving on!_

_Come on, Mollie, choose your Con!_

She stumbled about, beaming, with her hands outstretched to the circle of males, some pulling back if they wanted to wait for another girl, others pushing forward in hopes of a kiss. The chosen Con. When Mollie laid hands of a brash, freckled boy younger than I and he planted a hard kiss on her, I wondered briefly what the real Conderoga—the man of the game—was like to get such an entertainment named for him. Who was he the Con for? Mollie stared sheepishly at her con when the mask came off and the two moved away together for the Binding. The next girl stepped up, the process began again. I felt irrational butterflies crawling in my stomach. What if I chose someone I had no interest in? Reno beamed at me.

That game grew louder and more raucous, building into a crescendo, as the men yelled and shouted at the girls in good humor (although some things said raised the eyebrows of middle aged adults nearby), and the females shrieked and giggled at their choices. A young woman named Cheryl chose Johnny for her Con about the same time my voice went hoarse from repeating the rhyme, and I about felt sympathetic toward him when he cast me a disappointed glance. But I cheered with the others, glad to see Reno still in the ring, now an expert at dodging searching feminine hands. However, the male group was dwindling.

All too soon, my turn came, and I felt almost dizzy as the cloth went securely over my eyes. The guys whistled. I knew both Reno and Johnny were watching me, one in expectation, the other in frustration. The hands began to turn me quickly, until I thought I might be sick, but they got what they wanted: I hadn't the slightest clue as to which direction I faced. The chanting began, to which I laughed outright to hide my embarrassment at being the center of attention.

"Over here, Tifa!"

"Come on, sweetheart."

"I'll show them to you." I recognized Reno's voice above all the others and made a drunken attempt toward him in my blindness. The ground felt uneven, and a breeze pushed the other way, but I reached out and seized the lapels of his navy Turk jacket. His breath rolled over my face, and I had to stand on tiptoe to reach his lips, touching them softly with my own. They felt placid and velvety, burningly liberating, but strangely unresponsive. My heart jumped. The whistles rang out again; I was bold.

"You can take off my blindfold," I told him while bending my head for him to do so, and he hesitated one moment before touching the knot uncertainly. Undoing it to unveil my eyes. I swallowed hard.

Reno stood off to the side watching me and my dark hair Con, who peered curiously and stoically at me, exchange looks, and I thought I might be ill again. I'd just kissed a complete stranger. My Con smiled, or more like smirked. The slightest turn of his lips, the ones I'd just touched.

"Hello," he said, his voice thick and deep, full of hidden meaning, but good humor. Darkly seductive with a alluring gleam in his claret eyes. A look not meant for me.

"You two come over here!" The game's supervisor pulled us off to the side, producing the significant piece of scarlet ribbon to tie our wrists together—his right, my left. I could feel my partner's surprise at the knot around his wrist and I couldn't help but understand he'd accidentally stumbled into the game and I'd trapped him with a kiss.

"You know the rules?" The supervisor glared viciously at the two of us, especially at my Con who revealed nothing in his eyes. I watched his unchanging mouth, wondering how it would taste if he kissed back. Unnerving? Delightful? I nodded.

"Good." The supervisor said, then pushed me to the side, forcing my Con to follow suit. He took wide even steps that enhanced his posture, and calling to notice that he was, indeed, a Turk, if the navy suit wasn't convincing enough. He cleared his throat meaningfully, drawing my gaze to his face, which was handsome enough for all it serious severity.

"I assume you will explain _this_—"He raised the hand from which the red ribbon dangled like a steady stream of blood"—to me?"

"Oh, yes." I flushed, realizing that once he figured out his role in the game of Con he would most likely untie the binding on the spot, leaving me with an empty string that kissed the ground. "We're tied like this until midnight, and every time the supervisor says to kiss my Con I have to…" I gestured with my hand, embarrassed to finish. He nodded knowingly, but didn't undo the knot. A wave of affection for him washed through me. The lights glistened on his ebony hair, which was neatly trimmed, yet still rather wild and long. It fit him.

"Hey, Vinny," Reno called, coming up to us and bringing in tow a shorter blond girl, who stared in awe at her Con. My own Con frowned disapprovingly at the younger Turk.

"_Vincent,_ Reno," Vincent corrected him brusquely. I became acutely aware how close I was to him, our arms with the ribbon touching. Before Reno could answer, the supervisor cut in, "okay, Cons and ladies, here's a trial run. Cons, kiss your ladies." I raised my brow in slight confusion at the change of direction, but both Reno and Vincent didn't falter, both dipping their heads to capture the ladies' lips. One pair belonging to me, of course, and it sent a pleasant tingle into my mouth to feel his body pushing up against mine, more receptive than before. I returned the motion until he finally pushed away for a breath. I inhaled. Reno and his girl were still going at it.

"Would you like to get a drink?" Vincent offered, his burgundy eyes burning into me, much like his mouth; I shook my head yes. He was an excellent kisser. When he brought back two flutes, I couldn't remember how many I had prior to it, but I took elfin sips at it anyway until the deep drink dried my mouth. Like I had a wad of cotton wedged between my teeth and tongue. He didn't even touch his glass to his lips.

_Turk code_, I thought, a bit beyond tipsy.

I said, "Tifa Lockhart," remembering courtesy and that we hadn't even formally introduced ourselves yet. After we'd kissed twice.

"Vincent Valentine." The name sounded nice in his mouth, and like a handmade suit, it fit him. Precisely. "Should I even ask how old you are?"

"Nineteen," I lied with a convincing laugh. He seemed like a man with morals, ones that wouldn't hesitate on the boundaries between customs and right and wrong, not allowing him to continue the game of Con tied to a seventeen-year-old without weighing heavily on his mind. A dry attempt to keep him tethered to me. He smirked down on me—really, before him I hadn't thought of myself as being short. "Would it scare you if I told you that I am twenty-six?"

"Does it scare you?" I evaded.

"Some mornings. But I suppose when I turn twenty-seven I'll be used to it." I liked his sardonic nature and dry humor. "At least I'm not old enough to be your father." I thought of my father with his fifty-some years under his belt.

"I think I'd untie the cord if that were so," I teased. He sobered.

"Is that all you have to do?" A pang of fear and regret struck sharply in my chest, afraid that me may leave after all, however he merely nodded when I said Yes, and if the string came untied, the rules dictated that it couldn't be knotted again. If we kept it together, then a prize would come at the end.

"If you wanted, we could…" I motioned to the bindings. "…right now."

"—Kiss your Cons!" Someone shouted for the girls to make their move, but Vincent bent the rules and put his lips delicately to mine for a second time. No strict intimacies, just the slight brush of his tongue on my own, inviting it back into his mouth. I sighed into him. Became clay for him to mold.

When he pulled back, I noticed a younger boy being scolded by the supervisor for calling the queue, and grinned into Vincent's cheek as he grazed the lobe of my ear. I could smell his cologne as he said, "No thanks." My clay body turned to melted butter.

My mother and father had disappeared, and I prayed fervently that they would remain invisible for the remainder of the party. What would my mother do when she found that she could not hold onto my wrist anymore, that, in fact, I was tied to someone else? At the slightest tug of the ribbon, I realized Vincent was vying for my erratic attention, pointing to the outskirts of Nibelheim where longer shadows crept and fewer people populated the area. I gave a small smile and followed closely, anxious that he might slip away from me if someone were to fall between us.

.—

From the outside, we watched the party silently, the noises distant and echoic as though it stood behind a pane of glass. I shivered, looking at my Con, trying to see what held his attention so vehemently. An upset expression crossed his face, much akin to Mrs. Strife's features when she remembered her son, longing for something lost.

The beautiful woman with the repulsive man mingled with the bald Turk and some other lady, her laughter ringing through the glass to us, and her face positively glowing. Once again, the feeling of worthlessness pulsed through me; I was the stone plucked from the river and compared to the flawless diamond. Of course he was enamored with her, her looks could have drawn anyone in, but a chill of jealousy danced on my spine nonetheless. Reluctantly, I responded to it.

"Do you love her?" My voice asked. He stiffened noticeably, turning to look at me as though he just remembered I was there. I made my face like serene water and all the more plain. Then his gaze turned to one of scrutiny, analyzing me, tearing me apart bit by bit with his eyes. I endured it, keeping my own eyes locked onto his dark irises. They were as black as coal, and so full of emotion they seemed endless but still wry.

"She has _him_." The was 'him' fell from his lips pushed my breath out with one swift exhale; I hadn't realized I'd been holding it in. Vincent held a deep contempt for the sneering man, one that went beyond petty reasons of resentment and egotism, something more significant. The man was evil, the hardening of Vincent's jaw and the lusterless gleam in his eyes spoke so.

"But you still love her, don't you?" I persisted. Distantly, someone called out for the girls to kiss their Cons, but I reached out and took his hand instead. It was so much larger than my own; my fingers lost themselves in his palm.

"I did once. I'm not sure if I would call it love anymore," he said regretfully, looking back at the woman. "There will never be anything more than formal friendship or respect between us, I think."

"Why's that?" The night seemed to grow even darker.

"Her values. Her sorrows. They've turned her against me." Now she seemed like a fool to me, choosing a man who sent chills down a person's spine over someone who loved her unconditionally. My list of people I wanted to shake sense into grew, yet I felt competitive with her for him.

"What happened?" I couldn't stop the question, it popped out and tore the air, stirring it up. My hand still held him, and he moved to hold my tiny fingers in both his palms, caressing the knuckles.

"My father died saving her life, and now she sees herself as a murderer. I suppose she believes that she is undeserving of my affection and she owes so much that she can never give back what she's taken. Lucrecia carries around such a horrible burden of pain and guilt, she desperate to someone to lean on for support, but I will not do. I only add to that burden, but he—_he _with all his false promises and honey words—trapped her. Hojo has no morals, if he can do something in the name of science, he will do it just so people will look at his twisted mind with admiration. They won't see until later all the damage he's done and will continue to do. Did you know that they insert Jenova cells into members of Soldier?"

Horrified, I said, "No!" He nodded gravely.

"It gives them what is called Mako eyes. That's what the reactor is for, finding Jenova's essence in the planet and harvesting it to create and army for Shinra. Rumor is that Shinra planned to actually put Jenova's physical body up on Mt. Nibel, for protection in its remoteness, but that may be untrue. It's only a theory." He sighed.

"I apologize, I'm ranting on tangents."

"No!" I put my other hand on his. "You know what you are talking about. When I look at that man I just feel…something. He's perverse. Did he invent the idea of putting Jenova into people?" Vincent nodded.

"He helped develop the plan. And now he schemes to go even farther. Lucrecia is pregnant with his child, and I know Hojo feels no love for that baby. She told me he wants to give the child 'Jenova's gift of strength.'"

"_What!_" I was utterly aghast. He wanted to experiment on an unborn child! His own baby who hadn't even had his first breath of air, and he wanted to toy with it as though it were a test. Not even a human.

"No good will ever come from this. How could it? I need to forget her, wipe her from my mind, but now I can't. This new weight will cripple her. I want to stop him—and her, not for love, but for decency and the sake of humanity. _I wish I could just _forget—" He breathed deeply, unable to continue. I took a leap and kissed him without the queue. His morality. His worries. Everything.

He answered magnificently, gripping my head after releasing my hand, pulling me to him…to forget. His tongue danced in my mouth, gliding over my teeth and lips, and I could feel both our hearts pounding the same rhythm, not at all in sync with our breathing, which was ragged and irregular. His other hand clutched the small of my back, under my shirt against the skin. I gasped into his mouth, and he pulled away for the third time that night.

A question danced in his face, one caught between guilt and desire…for me? I didn't dare to hope, but he jumped the bridge, acting for himself—freeing his own emotions as well as my own from the domination of my parents. He panted.

"Would you like to come to my room." My stomach bottomed out.

.—

As his hands shut the door softly and fumbled with the lock, subtle fear boiled up inside me, and I moved to sir on the edge of the well made bed with blankets tucked under and a large floral comforter draped over the side. I felt like I was smothering as he turned slowly to stare at me with his dark eyes.

"I—I," I heard myself stutter, and he moved like silk over to sit next to me, that haunted look in his gaze again. He kissed my jawline, his nostalgic scent drowning me into his long arms. I wanted this, I yearned for him: to break the control. To shatter his ache. To finally prove myself. He was my conduit.

"It will be all right," he breathed on my neck, almost as much to himself as to me. That woman, Lucrecia, was clearly on his mind. Weighing on his heart, and I pushed my terror aside for him. He needed to forget, so I kissed him roughly on the cheek. "I'll be gentle, Tifa." He promised.

And he was.

As I lay on my stomach, with his body braced above mine, his hard torso pushing on my back with each delicate thrust, I stared out the glass paned windows where down below the festivities clamored on, my hands gripping the bed sheets. I didn't think of my mother, only of the man making love with me.

And as he held me to him, my bare body curled against his, tucked against the hardened curve of him, I watched him sleep and synchronized my breathing to each deep inhale of his own. I felt something for him, an odd affection that went beyond the crimson ribbon which we'd undone on the stairs. It lay sensually on the floor.

Resting my head against his chest, I sighed, praying desperately that he found some consolation in me. But a small, distant voice in my head told me that he would torture himself further for what we'd done.

Quietly, I whispered, "I'm sorry."

I wanted to say so much more, but the words left a space only tears seemed to have the ability to fill.

I allowed them to, just as silently.

--Fin--

Yay, finished! Whew, this has been sitting around in my notebook for months now, and now its finally out. I've got a couple things to add.

Honestly, I really didn't feel like doing the research on Mako reactors, so I don't really know if that's what they do or not. Let's just pretend that I (as well as Vincent) knew what I was talking about. When in reality, I don't. And I haven't played the game in months, and I can't remember Sephiroth's whole lecture on the background of it.

I'm sure the AU bits are pretty obvious, and I'll even admit I toyed with the idea of making Sephiroth Tifa's Con (placing the setting back when they came to visit Nibelheim, and whatnot), but Vincent won in the end. What can I say? I just like him.

And poor Vinny isn't a cradle robber, Tifa lied to him. Sorry, I would've made her nineteen, but then her parents wouldn't have been so controlling, so ya. It all worked out in the end, except they both are shallow. I made them that way, so hate me, ha ha.

Sorry if the end seems rushed, but I want to get to bed, haha. This is my birthday present to all of my readers, so please tell me what you think, I can't tell you how much I'd appreciate it. You guys are fantastic.


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